


Two - Two - One

by BarPurple



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Celebration Fic, F/M, I had to do Sherlock for my 221 fic on AO3, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 04:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7494375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my two hundred and twenty-first work on AO3. I asked Tumblr for prompts and got more than I was expecting. (I was expecting zero or one) So instead of picking one I wrote a fic for each prompt I received. At the start of each chapter you'll find the prompt that inspired me. I hope I have done them justice. Thank you all, you fabulous readers, who constantly encourage me to write in this fandom :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Joylee56 on Tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Joylee56+on+Tumblr), [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/gifts), [likingthistoomuch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likingthistoomuch/gifts).



> urlsareforcreativepeople Parentlock, Mollcroft:Molly goes into labour while Mycroft is in a meeting with the Prime Minister. Basically, he loses his mind and causes traffic jams everywhere by manipulating the traffic lights in his urge to be at the hospital as quick as possible. (If you want to, let Molly be in Sherlock’s company when her waters break, I think him freaking out too would be brilliant.)

It was something that the more observant members of Whitehall had noticed in the past few weeks. Mycroft Holmes had started putting his mobile on the desk in front of him during meetings. It was always face down and it had never so much as vibrated, but it was always there, squared up neatly to the edge of the desk. They’d become used to its silent presence and basically ignored it, choosing to focus on the owner of the phone who was certainly more terrifying. The infamous Whitehall éminence grise had a lot less patience these days; his nickname of Iceman was being reconsidered as he’d explosively lost his temper twice in the past three months. The way this meeting was heading it appeared that temper was about to erupt again.

“Really Prime Minister, must I explain this for a third time? It is simply not possible to …”

Mycroft was interrupted by the cheery ringtone blaring from his mobile. It hadn’t got through a full ring before he’d snatched the phone from the desk and answered it. Everyone in the room held their breath, if Mycroft was answering his phone during a cabinet meeting it must be of vital importance. 

“It’s happening? Now?”

The blood drained from Mycroft’s face leaving him ashen. Several people ran their fingers under their collars as they imagined the worst case scenarios behind this call.

“Yes, yes. I’m on my way!”

Mycroft would have walked into the door, if his assistant hadn’t stepped up sharply and pulled it open for him. The unmistakable sounds of running feet drifted back into the room, but that couldn’t be Mycroft, the Iceman did not run, did he? The Prime Minister snapped his gapping jaw shut only to open it again to say; “Where the hell does he think he’s going?”

Anthea smile sweetly as her thumbs flew over the screen of her Blackberry, “Mister Holmes has a time sensitive matter to attend to, we’ll have to reschedule.”

“When?”

“Two weeks’ time.”

Anthea strolled out of the room leaving the elected leaders of Great Britain in total confusion. Their aides were far more informed in this matter and began subtly exchanging text messages regarding the odds on exact times.

Vincent was waiting at the side door.

“This way Mister Holmes, we’re not taking the car.”

“What?”

Vincent didn’t comment on the panic is his boss’s voice, or the fact that the normally unflappable Holmes was well and truly flapping. He just took a firm grip on his elbow and steered him to the far side of the parking lot.

“Anthea and I have been planning this for months, sir, everything is in place. You need to put this on.”

Mycroft didn’t question the motorcycle or helmet; he just put it on and threw his leg over the bike behind Vincent.

“Hold on tight, sir, I won’t be sparing the throttle.”

As good as his word Vincent drove at the upper edge of the speed limit, Mycroft had just enough time to notice that all of the traffic lights were in their favour. He suspected Anthea’s involvement in that. (He found out later that a number of traffic jams had been caused as a result of whatever she’d done, but he let the Transport Minister deal with the fallout from that; the man had been annoying him for months anyway.)

The bike squealed to a halt at their destination. Mycroft dismounted and threw the helmet at Vincent. In the hospital waiting room he found Sherlock pacing back and forth nervously. His brother turned on him and snapped;

“What took you so long? Have you any idea how loudly she’s been shouting for you? I think I’m deaf in one ear now. John’s with her says it’s all going as it’s supposed to. He threw me out after Molly punched me.”

Sherlock had rattled all of this off as he dragged Mycroft along various bland corridors. They came to a halt outside a private suite. Sherlock gave his brother an awkward hug, wished him luck and shoved him into the delivery room.

Nineteen and three quarter hours later Doctor Molly Hooper-Holmes gave birth to a healthy eight pound four ounce baby girl. Sherlock took the first pictures of the proud and exhausted parents and his new-born niece, Annabelle Hannah. The Prime Minister was among the first to arrive at the hospital and offer his congratulations. He was subtly ejected after trying to get Mycroft’s advice on the current political situation. (Mary hacked the CCTV footage of the PM in Anthea’s expert arm lock and gave it to Mycroft as a present along with a giant teddy bear for the baby.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joylee56 said: Anything celebrating 221 must include John. If Sherlolly someone asking if he’s ok with Sherlock ‘dumping’ him.

Mary knew what had happened the second John slammed into the break room; after all she was the one who’d left the newest copy of Heat on the reception desk this morning. She let John crash around making tea and didn’t speak until he had a freshly brewed cuppa in his hand. She took a sip of her own tea and casually asked;

“So how long did it take her?”

The new temp had started today. Mary had her pegged as a Sherlock fangirl after talking to her for thirty seconds.

John growled; “Three and a half minutes after I introduced myself.”

Mary clicked her fingers and swore. John rolled his eyes at his wife.

“From your reaction I deduce you had longer than that in the betting pool?”

“Less actually. She’s such a Deer Stalker I almost put her down as running into your room in tears when she saw the pictures.”

Lots of the tabloid glossies had run the photos of Sherlock and Molly at Wimbledon. John had been fielding sympathy and heartfelt condolences over being ‘dumped’ all week. He groaned and ran his free hand through his hair.

“How is this not bothering you? We’re married! We have a child!”

Mary sniffed and gave her husband a shrug; “The die hards don’t believe that this is a real marriage.”

With her cup in one hand she could only make air quotes with one hand, but John understood her emphasis.

“I knew what it was going to be like the moment he came back, it doesn’t change what we have. Just gives me a way to make a little extra cash for our daughter’s college fund.”

John stared at her. He still got annoyed by the fuss over his and Sherlock’s alleged romantic relationship. Mary put her cup down and walked towards him.

“You, me, Sherlock, Molly, and I suspect Mycroft know the truth of the matter,” She snaked her hands around her husband’s neck and rubbed her nose against his in an Eskimo kiss, “Who give a flying whatsit about anyone else’s opinion?”

John resisted for a second then sighed and pressed a kiss to her lips.

“It just pissed me off that people define my life in terms of that git.”

“That git is your best friend and trashy media gold. It ain’t going to change honey.”

John kissed her again; “I know that, but what is Mina going to think when she’s old enough to understand all of this?”

Mary rocked back on her heels and grinned at him.

“Why my dear John, our daughter will be running the book.”

He tried to give her a frown, but it quickly melted into laughter; “Yeah, she’ll probably give better odds than you too.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joylee56: If Mollcroft, the Watsons together trying desperately not to laugh when someone (Mummy?) comments to Mycroft 'so surprised to find out you’re bi rather than gay’.

A quiet afternoon barbecue at the Holmes family country estate; possibly the only invitation to ever arrive with signed declarations that there would be no drugging, or assassinations, or other such nonsense; (John knew for a fact that final wording was a direct quote from Mr Holmes Senior.) It had been fun, but the real entertainment started when Mary elbowed her husband in the ribs and jerked her head at Mummy Holmes and Molly Hooper who were sat on the bench next to the Watson Family’s picnic blanket. John gave his wife a subtle nod and fished their phones from the bag that held Mina’s supplies.

Violet Holmes carefully put her tea cup down on table and took a deep breath as she turned to face Molly. Siger put a warning hand on her shoulder.

“Leave it Vi. You know what curiosity did to the cat.”

Molly looked at the lovely couple with a smile, she’d known all afternoon that Mycroft’s mum was steeling herself to ask something. She patted Siger’s other hand and blithely said; “Satisfaction brought her back,” Molly nodded encouragingly at Violet, “Go on. Ask it’s okay.”

Violet gave her husband a ‘Told you so’ look and then smiled at Molly and said loudly; “Are you happy being Mycroft’s beard?”

Molly spluttered on her fruit juice.

“I’m not his beard.”

Siger buried his head in his hand as his wife clucked and rolled her eyes.

“I have no problem with my eldest son being gay; I just want to be sure that you are happy in your role, Molly my dear.”

Molly looked up to see Mycroft striding towards them. He had clearly heard his mother’s voice and Molly had a fair idea of what was about to happen. She carefully pulled her hand free from Violet’s comforting grip and said quickly; “Violet, I can assure you, your eldest son is not gay, in fact…”

Molly’s next words were lost as Mycroft grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. She managed to draw a quick breath before Mycroft’s lips crashed into hers and she was swept into a deep dip, safe in his strong arms.

Mary and John had been ready for this; both of their phones were set to take hi-def video footage. As Mycroft finally pulled Molly up right Sherlock gave Mary and John a wink, he’d been on the other side and had caught Mummy’s reaction. Molly took a deep breath and cleared her throat as she turned blushing to Violet.

“As I was saying; Mycroft is not gay and you’ll be welcoming your first grandchild in about six months.”

John and Mary exchanged quick high fives as they kept filming the Holmes family reaction to the news of the impending next generation. John was given a six pack from Lestrade when he shared the footage of a shocked Sherlock who had failed to deduce Molly’s expectant state.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mizjoely said:  
> 221st fic prompt: Sherlolly, celebrating 221 days at 221B together (Sherlock likes odd anniversaries!)

Molly knew something was up the second she opened the front door. There was a trail of sparkly confetti on the stairs which hadn’t been there when she popped out to the shops; just a few pieces clinging to the stairs at odd intervals, so probably accidental rather than a deliberate placement. She chuckled to herself at how much she sounded like Sherlock. There were numerals among the metallic stars and hearts, ones and twos, a client just come from a 21st birthday party? There was only one way to find out, Molly made her way up the stairs to their flat.

It wasn’t a client.

A party had exploded in the flat. In front of the fireplace three huge helium balloons read 221, there were ‘Happy Anniversary’ banners and a massive bouquet of sunflowers. The metallic confetti she’d observed on the stairs was thrown artistically around a beautifully wrapped box on the coffee table. Sherlock was standing in the middle of this strange scene fidgeting with his shirt cuff, a nervous smile playing on his face. It must have been a mad rush to get all of this in place while she was at the shop; Sherlock had some confetti in his hair.

“What’s all this?”

Her mad genius boyfriend cleared his throat; “I realise that missing our six month anniversary was a bit of a relationship blunder…”

Molly nodded slowly; “John told you off for that did he?”

“Repeatedly. As did the members of the Martin Gang who were holding us hostage at the time. Lestrade and Dimmock joined in once they arrived to make the arrests. Anyway, I am now very aware that significant dates in one’s relationship must be celebrated in some way, so...Happy Anniversary Molly.”

Molly chewed on her lip and did some fast sums in her head. A huge smile bloomed on her face.

“Our two hundred and twenty-first day living here together.”

Sherlock gave a dramatic sigh of relief; “Yes! John said it was a ridiculous milestone to mark, but I knew…umph.”

Sherlock’s words were smothered as Molly launched herself into his arms and kissed him hard.

“I take it you approve, Doctor Hooper?”

“Happy 221 Sherlock.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rubyred7531 sent a post 221st fic  
> Oooh, Sherlolly please! Maybe one with Sherlock discovering something he missed about Molly's past. Example, she funded her medical training and her dad's medical bills by singing in a nightclub. ;)
> 
> Played around with this one a fair bit, hope it's okay :)

The tower of magazines gave into gravity and slid to the floor. Sherlock avoided being crushed purely because of the timely application of John’s boot to his arse. 

“Don’t touch anything!”

John pulled his hand back and waited. Sherlock’s curls were bouncing madly as he scanned over the scattered magazines. He lurched forward and grabbed one from the floor.

“There. Right date and the first victim’s phone number scribbled on the back cover by the lonely hearts ads.”

It took John two attempts to grab the evidence from Sherlock who was waving it over his shoulder while muttering to himself and pushing the other magazines out of the way.

“What else are you looking for?”

“Stand still John. I saw something.”

Sherlock scrambled forward scattering a flurry of magazines and almost toppling another pile.

“Aha! Got it!”

John raised an eyebrow; “Is that evidence too?”

“It’s very important, just not for this case.”

The two of them picked their way carefully out of the storage locker. It really was very convenient that the murder was a specific compulsive hoarder, all of the evidence NSY could need was in one place. Now the case was solved Sherlock was only interested in the magazine rolled in his coat pocket. That was evidence that once again he’d missed something about someone very important.

Molly didn’t immediately question the presence of a decade old magazine on the coffee table; by Baker Street standards it wasn’t unusual. It wasn’t until after she’d made a cup of tea that she picked it up to see if she could work out why it was here.

“Sherlock!”

“Yes dear?”

“Don’t ‘yes dear’ me like that,” Her words were softened by her smile, “Get in here and be clever.”

Sherlock was grinning as he ambled from the bedroom; he settled himself on the sofa behind her and wrapped his arms and legs around her, his chin came to rest on her shoulder. After a moment he asked;“Why didn’t you tell me you were a model at uni?”

“Because it’s not something I want everyone at St Barts knowing.”

Sherlock plucked the magazine from her and flicked open to the relevant page. He took another look at the advert and frowned.

“Why not? These are tasteful shots; there’s nothing dubious or salacious about the product; this is wholesome and family friendly compare to some of the stuff I got up to at uni.”

Molly snuggled into him with a sigh; “I know there’s nothing wrong with it as such, but I don’t want people to know how I paid for uni. Plus every time I see them I remember how my dorm mate laughed and said that was the only part of me that was photogenic.”

“Your dorm mate might have been right, you’re not conventionally beautiful,” Molly tensed against him and Sherlock hurried on to explain his apparently tactless comment, “But the modelling agency showed amazing sense, they chose to photograph the most powerful and skilled part of you, your wondrous dexterous hands.” 

Sherlock tossed the magazine to one side, why was he looking at the moisturiser advert featuring Molly’s hands when he had the real thing in front of him? He slid his hand along Molly’s forearm and lifted her hand up in front of them.

“It took me less than a second to recognize you in the photo. I doubt anyone else would identify you, even if they were shown the advert, but I am very intimately acquainted with your digits.”

He traced his index finger up and over Molly’s thumb.

“I used to get distracted in the morgue watching you handle a scalpel. Such delicate, precise movements, you truly are a genius with a blade.”

He nuzzled into her neck and whispered in her ear; “I have to be careful these days and not watch you too closely. Now I know what it feels like to have your clever hands claw at my shoulders, or wound in my hair, or wrapped around my cock. If I were to think about any of those sensations in the lab we’d never get any work done.”

Molly threaded their fingers together and Sherlock shivered happily. He wouldn’t tell anyone about Molly’s brief stint as a hand model, but he was going to track down copies every advert she’d done.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said:  
> Anything Mollcroft! Molly and Mycroft crushing on each other but both are oblivious. Anthea and Sherlock give them a little "push"

St Bart’s black tie ball? –SH

He’s in America. Medical conference in Glasgow? – A

She hates the keynote speaker. Cinema? – SH

You’ve just asked John what ‘normal’ people do on a date haven’t you? – A

Maybe. Situation getting desperate. It’s distracting – SH

We’re on our way to St Barts. To consult on one of your cases. – A

Pathetic excuse! Case is only a three! – SH

Get the keys to the lab supply cupboard. I have a plan. – A

 

Sherlock slammed the door shut and Anthea quickly turned the key. He rolled his eyes at his brother’s right hand woman.

“This is your plan? Locking them in a cupboard?”

Anthea smoothed a stray lock of hair back into place.

“I admit it’s a little childish, but he just rescheduled an incredibly important meeting to come here so he could moon over Doctor Hooper. I don’t mind waiting for them to get their act together, but I’m not explaining to Her Majesty why he couldn’t make afternoon tea again.”

Sherlock frowned at the door, “Shouldn’t they be yelling at us to let them out?”

Anthea took a fast look through the window. Mycroft and Molly were kissing, passionately. She burst into laughter and dragged Sherlock away to the canteen.

The genius stammered, “But our plan…”

Anthea sped up; “Trust me. They’re on board.”

 

Message to Brother Mine and Hand of God.

I don’t know how you both missed it, but Molly and I have been a couple for nine days. Thank you for getting us a bit of quiet time. Now come and open this bloody door, please. - MH


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> likingthistoomuch said:  
> Hi and congrats on generating that massive amount of material(solace) for all ur fans. My prompt: The thoughts of all of Sherlock's friends as they lie in bed the night they know Sherlock has returned.

Mycroft took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. The report was making no sense; he was honestly sleepy for the first time in months. He dropped the folder and his glasses on the bedside table and clicked off the lamp. His brother was home, London felt whole again.

Molly felt tears prickling at her eyes again. The events of the day had caught up with her when she’d got home and she’d let herself have a little cry. Now the tears weren’t relief that he was back, but sadness and worry about how she was going to face John and explain her part in the Fall.

Lestrade padded bare foot from the shower to his bedroom. He caught sight of himself in the mirror. He was still grinning, had been since that morning. Sherlock was alive. Greg towelled off his hair and realized that he owed Anderson an apology and a pint. 

Soft violin music came from upstairs making Martha shake her head and cluck to herself. It was only a few months ago she’d stopped imagining hearing that sound, but now it really was himself upstairs playing. There’d be crashes and bangs and shouts for tea next.

John glared at the ceiling listening to Mary’s soft breathing as she slept. Sleep was impossible for him. Sherlock was back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first 221B! How cool is that?


End file.
